


Retinal Burn

by Hypoxia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Editor Akaashi Keiji, M/M, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Red String of Fate, Road Trips, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypoxia/pseuds/Hypoxia
Summary: When Akaashi first saw the red string tied to his pinky, he figured it was a side effect of the third cup of coffee he’d had that night. One five-hour drive later, he realizes that it’s very much real, and whatever is tied to the other end of that thread should more aptly be labeled a pipe dream rather than an actual person.OrAkaashi has twenty-four hours to find his soulmate. Bokuto wakes up thinking that this whole situation is a bad joke. Kuroo’s just along for the ride.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji & Oikawa Tooru, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou & Oikawa Tooru, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 62





	1. 3 A.M.

Three in the morning is a time meant for either finishing late assignments, passing out after consuming one too many drinks, or — on occasion — sleeping. Somehow ignoring the sounds of a crop circle documentary blaring in the background, Kuroo and Oikawa had managed to fall right into the groove of the latter two, Oikawa snoring on the couch and Kuroo collapsed on the floor directly below him.

Akaashi was not as fortunate.

Akaashi just wanted to finish up some work.

Akaashi was not planning on spending a solid five minutes sitting in silence, staring at his right hand and ignoring the sudden numbness in his legs.

In the moments leading up to this, he’d almost felt bad for not joining in on the growing sleeping pile in his living room. The other two had looked so peaceful, even if Kuroo had a funny habit of hogging all of the fallen pillows and Oikawa loved to latch himself onto the nearest, vaguely body-shaped object. The only person missing from their perfect set-up was Kenma, who Kuroo and Oikawa would see soon enough. Akaashi’d hardly been able to spend any time with his friends since they’d arrived in Miyagi earlier that week, and they’d be leaving for Tokyo sometime later in the morning. Even without Kenma there, he would’ve loved nothing more than to throw every unedited page to the wind and plop himself down onto Kuroo’s collection of pillows, just like they used to do when they were kids. Except in those days, all four of them could handle staying up into the early hours of the morning without their eyelids getting heavy the minute the moon rose a little too high up in the sky.

But work was work, and _Zombie Knight Zom'bish_ wasn’t going to edit itself. Truly unfortunate, if you were to ask Akaashi, but alas, he had to hole himself up in his room if he had any chance of meeting his page-count goal for the day. The early morning hours of the second of every month were always set aside to edit the chapters he’d meant to look at on the first. Perhaps not the best system in place, but it worked for him so he wasn’t too keen on changing it.

To drown out the still droning documentary coming from his living room television, Akaashi had plugged in his earbuds into his phone and searched for a sports news livestream to serve as white noise against the scribbles of his edits. On the screen, a news anchor talks excitedly while describing the day’s upcoming V. League championship match.

**_Use fewer action lines here._ **

_“ … against fan-favorite MSBY Black Jackals…”_

**_The same SFX has been used three pages in a row._ **

_“Up and coming wing-spiker Shouyo Hinata…”_

**_Perhaps consider deleting this panel to aid the flow of the page._ **

_“... but that’s not meant to discount the obvious skill of the Adlers who have fought their way from the bottom up…”_

Despite having quit in middle school, he still did have a love for the sport, as evidenced by the long list of professional players he followed on social media and the amount of time he spent watching said players’ livestreams while he tried to get ahead on work. It was calming in the strangest sense, to watch someone else’s life play out in front him. 

But at that moment, Akaashi didn’t have a single relaxed cell in his body, each one having become a little less functional with every passing comment written in scarlet ink. His head had begun to hurt so badly and at that point, he couldn’t tell if it had come from the caffeine overload he was surely putting his body through or the remaining eight pages stacked on his desk. And as that miserable little pile of ink and paper and poorly illustrated zombies stared up at him, Akaashi had decided that perhaps a mini trip to the kitchen for a snack break was in order.

Well.

Snacks, fancy Argentine chocolate courtesy of one overseas volleyball player, whatever it could really be called. Akaashi wasn’t about to pass out from both sleep deprivation _and_ a poorly timed low blood sugar moment. That had only happened once before, and Kuroo had made him swear up and down he wouldn’t push himself to the point of repeating that mess. Besides, Oikawa had brought plenty enough to share with both his friends and his latest beau in Tokyo.

Although it wasn’t really like Akaashi could consider Iwaizumi as just another name in Oikawa’s long running list of partners, but regardless. Kuroo claimed dibs on the chocolate for both himself and Akaashi on the undying principle of “we were here first,” and while Akaashi appreciated the supposed claim to Oikawa’s stuff, he didn’t really think that applied to their situation. At least, not when the nature of Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s relationship was considered.

_“I didn’t even see the string show up before he came barging into the gym, all angry and stuff. Like, I can’t believe that before I even get to properly meet my soulmate, the first thing he does is try and start lecturing me! What a prick, right?” Oikawa had been practically fuming from the other side of the video call for the past seven minutes._

_“Well, his prickish-ness depends on a few things,” Kuroo began from his little square in the corner of Akaashi’s screen. “Number one: were you doing something where you deserved to get yelled at?”_

_“Guys, I’m being serious.” Akaashi could almost hear Oikawa’s pout seep into his voice. “I think the universe screwed up or something, because there’s no way that a man who looks like Godzilla’s anthro-sona -”_

_“Oikawa, what the hell is an anthro-sona?”_

_“- is my soulmate!” Oikawa whined, ignoring Kuroo’s attempt to cut him off. “We can’t all have a clichéd childhood friends to awkward middle school crushes to accidental soulmates telenovela-type relationship. Your universe, Testu,” Oikawa’s hands gestured wildly, “seems to be a lot nicer than ours.”_

_“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” Kenma called from somewhere behind Kuroo out of view of the camera and Akaashi saw the small smile plant itself on Kuroo’s face._

_“Not exactly helpful here, Kenma,” Oikawa grit. “You feel me, right, Kei-chan?”_

_“You both know my thoughts on the matter,” Akaashi sighed. He stared at Kuroo's pixelated image on the screen as the elder shook his head._

_“Look, I know it’s not ideal for you right now,” Kuroo said, adding an extra emphasis on the last two words, “but you found him before the string broke. You’re stuck with him unless otherwise noted, mistake or not.”_

_“Ugh, I wish I’d just noticed and let the clock run down alone in my room.”_

_“Yeah, I bet he thought the same thing when he met you.”_

_“Hey!” Oikawa protested. “Why’re you always so mean to me?”_

_“What can I say, I’m always the meanest.”_

The idea of soulmates had always left a bad taste in Akaashi’s mouth. Perhaps it’s the fact that soulmates were more than likely just the result of a self-fulfilling prophecy, of the universe toying with its subjects to see how far they’ll go for the whims of fate, regardless of whether or not that vanishing red string actually means anything. It’s an infatuation born from the adrenaline of finding one’s soulmate before their string disappears, to put it simply. Akaashi’s sure that plenty of people have gone on with their lives even without (what he guessed) was their randomly selected, supposed other half.

So it was that mindset that left Akaashi standing in his kitchen in the ungodly hours of the morning, his mouth full of chocolate and his pinky tied to a red thread.

The first thought to pop into his head is that he must be really tired. From his open kitchen, the only light source available is the television still flickering over his sleeping friends, and that isn’t exactly a reliable source in conjunction with his coffee addled brain. The second is that he needs to get into his room and finish whatever he still could of his work before he collapses from exhaustion. If he’s at the point where he’s seeing his red pen scribbles somewhere beyond his manuscript, he apparently needs the sleep.

But as he tiptoes out of the kitchen and into his bedroom where it’s much brighter, a panicked realization dawns on him and settles deep into the pit of stomach.

The red string is still there, moving with every tug of anxious fingers scraping against each other. It didn’t fade along with darkness, or disappear after he blinked several times. No, it was there, and as vivid as the blood Akaashi unconsciously drew from his left hand as one of his nails broke skin.

The universe had assigned Akaashi his soulmate, and he has twenty-four hours to find out who they are before he risks breaking the thread for good.

Twenty-four hours.

In the grand scheme of his life, that’s practically nothing.

That’s the thing about these soulmate threads — they could appear at the most random, unremarkable times and disappear almost as quickly. For most people, this isn’t exactly an issue. The majority just happen to either be at the right place at the right time after a few short hours (or minutes) as in Oikawa’s case, or they’ve already met their soulmate before without realizing it, like Kuroo. For Akaashi, this is a tad bit of an inconvenience at the moment. That is, unless his soulmate just happened to try and break into his place within the next hour.

Akaashi almost always has a plan. Perhaps said plan is sometimes a little loose, or could use some minor adjustments, but regardless. He almost always has a plan.

At this moment, all speculations dreamed up since childhood about what he theoretically would do when his soulmate thread appeared go out the door, buried somewhere in his mind alongside the thought of all the work he still had yet to complete for that day.

Realistically, he knows that he should get some sleep and worry about it in the morning after Kuroo and Oikawa have left. They would never know, and if Akaashi isn’t successful in his attempt to find whoever is on the other end of that thread, then the world would continue spinning without having ever been shaken. Three in the morning is an hour Akaashi has set aside to finish up late assignments, or watch his friends get plastered while they check out documentaries of questionable quality, or pass out after doing both of the above. It is not a time meant for throwing on the nearest light jacket after changing back into real clothing, or frantically grabbing car keys and a cellphone left somewhere on the kitchen counter. Right now, Akaashi isn’t supposed to be convincing himself that he’s doing this out of sheer curiosity, and to see if it’s possible to fulfill those childhood dreams of what it would be like to have someone to talk to beyond the same three people who would undoubtedly get tired of him.

It’s not that a dubious belief in soulmates had caused Akaashi to completely reject the notion of love at first sight, because it hadn't. Love at first sight just obviously didn’t apply to ninety-nine percent of soulmates, and that was fine. But— and he means _but_ —if he does happen to be part of that one percent who feels the world slip out from underneath his feet and his brain come to a screeching halt when he feels that first warm embrace.

Well, he’d just have to follow the thread to find out.

He’d chase down that same thread that feels like nothing against his finger, that he can keep tugging at with such futility, that he can see snake underneath his front door and out into some unknown direction below the early morning sky.

Akaashi silently prays that he doesn’t disturb the two peacefully resting on his living room floor, Oikawa now half dangling off the couch, just waiting to fall on top of Kuroo at some point in his sleep. Granted, Akaashi supposes that if they can sleep through whatever is now playing on the television, they can probably sleep through the click of his front door locking behind him.

His dashboard lights up as his engine slowly comes to life, still as sleepy as Akaashi should’ve felt. But maybe it’s the coffee or maybe it’s the excitement that comes with pursuing the unknown that sparks something warm inside of Akaashi’s chest, leading him to find a strange sort of comfort in the rumbling that’s travelling through the steering wheel and into his hands.

And while that might be the case, it’s the anxiety that sets into his stomach as he realizes that he actually has a soulmate out there that keeps him from shifting his car into reverse. The vibrations stay running up his fingers in a physical parody of the buzzing running through his head.

He has a soulmate.

_He has a soulmate._

Suddenly, the rush of excitement turns into a bout of nausea as Akaashi feels his stomach drop and his legs go numb. He considers calling Kenma for a brief second, knowing that the other boy is probably still awake, but he stomps out the thought before it can really develop. The car air in the car feels stale, and before he realizes what he’s doing, the skin on the side of his right thumb is gone to match his left.

A real living person is on the other side of that string, and they’re probably passed out, blissfully unaware of the fact that they’re tied down for the next twenty-four hours to someone who is currently ignoring all rational thought to go to bed and worry about this later. Or maybe, Akaashi thinks, the rational action was to try and find where the other end of the thread leads him as fast as possible. But then he might end up somewhere at four or five or six in the morning when his soulmate would most probably not want to be disturbed, and then that would cause the whole relationship to start off on the wrong foot which would be less than ideal. But what if they’re somewhere far from Miyagi? Travelling anywhere far from his small town would be a pain in the ass if his commute on the days that he actually had to go into work meant anything, and -

“Holy shit, dude. What the actual hell are you doing right now?”

Looking up from his white knuckles, Akaashi is met with the sight of Kuroo bending down to meet him at eye level from the driver’s seat window. He signals for Akaashi to lower the window, and he obliges, getting a face full of crisp spring air in response. 

“Good morning, Kuroo-san.” His voice comes out shakier than he had intended it to, and he sees the effect that it has on his friend’s face. Ever the quick wit, Akaashi tries to play it off but only digs himself deeper as he shuts his mouth and looks away.

“It’s not ‘good morning,’ it’s nearly four in the morning, and my question still stands,” Kuroo says, eying Akaashi with a careful gaze.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I ran out of coffee and needed to drive to the nearest gas station to grab some more?”

“Maybe, if I didn’t know that you kept a small stockpile at the top of your pantry.” Kuroo’s gaze softens as he opens the door for Akaashi to get out. “You kinda freaked me out when I heard your car start from all the way inside.”

Akaashi raises one eyebrow as he steps out from his car on shaky legs. “It was loud enough to wake you up?”

“No, but Oikawa was,” Kuroo grins. “But, really. What’s going on? Are you feeling okay?”

Akaashi shakes his and sighs, vaguely hoping that Kuroo doesn’t catch the anxiety in his voice. “Yes, I’m fine. I just needed to clear my head for a moment. I thought a drive and some air might help get my mind on track.”

“That’s bull, your thumbs are bleeding,” Kuroo counters, narrowing his eyes. Akaashi hadn’t noticed that he’d drawn blood again while picking at his hands. “If you don’t want to talk to me about it, that’s okay, but please come back inside so I know you’re not all anxious by yourself in a gas station parking lot. At least be anxious by yourself in your room where emergency chocolate deliveries can be made.”

Before he can even register it, Akaashi feels himself smile.

“Thank you, but I promise it’s not a big deal.”

But as he moves to walk back towards his apartment complex, he doesn’t feel Kuroo move with him. As he turns around to meet his best friend’s gaze, he’s met with wide eyes and a mouth slightly agape. And as he starts to say something about being cold, he sees that Kuroo is simply taking in his appearance: his clothing, his recently brushed hair, the fact that he could see the outline of Akaashi’s cell phone in his pocket.

Akaashi almost never took his cell whenever he truly wanted to be alone.

Akaashi watches the gears turn until he sees it all click in Kuroo’s mind.

_“Holy shit, Keiji.”_ His grin is blinding and suddenly, Akaashi realizes that he probably isn’t going to be able to go back inside to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like the very concept of a soulmate would be vv stressful for like 99% percent of people
> 
> thank you so much for checking this out! come yell at me on [twitter!!](https://twitter.com/HypoxicDreams)


	2. 4 A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “With all due respect,” Akaashi says, extracting himself from Kuroo’s grasp, “I’d feel more comfortable if you got more than three hours of sleep before I trust you with our lives on the road.”
> 
> “Last I checked, three is bigger than zero.”
> 
> “And last I checked, I still have an ungodly amount of caffeine in my body from this morning despite waking up at noon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to my wonderful betas [ftld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftld/works) and [pallu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallu/pseuds/pallu)!!

The first thought that passes through Kuroo’s head as he wakes up is that Oikawa is way heavier than he looks. This makes sense with all of the lean muscle and everything, but still. The impact of Oikawa half-tumbling on him drives his shoulder blades right through the floor, resulting in a very sharp, very _painful_ mockery of a morning alarm.

The second thought is that no human being should be awake at four in the morning on a Sunday. That goes double for whoever’s been idling outside in the parking lot with their loud-ass car during the entire time that Kuroo’s been awake. The sound of clicking and whirring continues, and Kuroo vaguely wonders if this person knows that you don’t actually have to heat your car up when it’s not even freezing cold outside.

The third thought is wait, no, that’s the sound Akaashi’s car makes whenever it tries to start up in any sort of weather below sixty degrees, and Akaashi definitely knows that idling around is a waste of oil and gas, given how many times Kuroo’s complained about some of his other friends doing it all the time.

Kuroo should’ve known that the sound of an apartment door closing wasn’t just a dream.

Cursing to himself, Kuroo manages to scoot out from underneath the man dreaming away on top of him with mild regard for whether or not he wakes him up, although — unsurprisingly — Oikawa doesn’t stir.

The table lamp in Akaashi’s room is still on despite the room itself being empty, save for the forgotten stack of papers and a half-empty mug of coffee. When Kuroo puts his hand on the ceramic mug, he can still feel the heat radiate against his palm. Akaashi hadn’t been out there for long which meant that Kuroo might still be able to coax him back inside before he sinks deeper into whatever mess his head is probably conjuring up. His best friend’s behavior isn’t exactly unfamiliar to him, no matter how badly Akaashi tries to hide it behind sarcastic comebacks and empty reassurances.

Dressed in the same crumpled jeans and old t-shirt he fell asleep in, Kuroo slips on his jacket and sneakers and braces himself for the cool morning air before stepping outside, throwing one final glance over his shoulder to make sure that Oikawa is still happily passed out on the floor. He feels groggy from the lack of sleep, and he’s sure that Oikawa will feel it way worse when he wakes up, especially given that he drank more than Kuroo the night before. The last thing that he — and most certainly, Akaashi — want is a tired, mildly hungover Oikawa.

Even for the middle of spring, it’s certainly colder than Kuroo expects it to be. The faded high school volleyball t-shirt he hugs to his chest with crossed arms doesn’t do him any favors either. He’s forced to zip up his jacket to his throat and as he approaches the stairs, he briefly wonders if he should’ve thrown on a pair of socks before coming out.

It's a quick trip down the stairs of the complex and into the parking lot. He plans on finding Akaashi quickly and either sitting in his car with him until he’s feeling a little better, or coaxing him to come back inside. They’re both places where Kuroo knows that neither of them will freeze, and where he won’t need to worry about Akaashi dropping off the face of the planet for a few hours as he occasionally does.

The muffled rumbling of an old car gets louder and louder, and before Akaashi seems to notice him, Kuroo is already hunched over and peering at him through the driver’s seat window. He doesn’t seem to be crying or close to it, which Kuroo takes as a good sign. But even underneath the dashboard lights, Kuroo can see how pale his fingers are as he grips onto the steering wheel, the tell-tale smudge of blood smeared against one of his thumbs where the skin has been picked away. Akaashi’s eyes are glued to his hands, which is less of a good sign, but nothing entirely out of the ordinary.

Still, his instincts are telling him that something isn’t entirely right, and he can’t quite piece together what it is. Kuroo tries to keep it casual as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Holy shit, dude. What the actual hell are you doing right now?”

Well, perhaps not entirely _casual_. Akaashi jumps in surprise when his gaze finally catches Kuroo staring at him from the other side of the glass.

The two exchange a handful of words, and Kuroo’s relieved to see that his quick visual sweep of his friend has yielded nothing particularly troubling. Akaashi’s fingers twitch nervously on multiple occasions, and Kuroo calls him out for trying to weasel his way around his questions and lying through his teeth, but apart from that, there aren’t any overt red flags.

(Akaashi actually tries to lie a lot.

_“It’s not a big deal; I can handle a lot more than this.”_

_“No, you’re not bothering me right now, Kuroo-san.”_

_“Yes. I ate a real meal.”_

Funny enough, a lot of them somehow relate back to the same things he used to get on Kuroo and Kenma about when they were teenagers.)

Yet, there’s still something that bugs Kuroo when he looks at Akaashi, at the way he seems like he wants to both somehow hop in his car and drive away, and crawl underneath his sheets for the next week. Regardless, Kuroo supposes that it doesn’t really matter too much when Akaashi smiles gently at him before turning to walk towards his apartment.

And that’s when it hits him.

Akaashi had brushed his hair before coming outside.

Most people probably wouldn’t have taken the time to try and look decent when they were just going out for a drive — much less during the wee hours of the morning when the town has yet to wake up. While Akaashi has never been particular about his hair, he always has been about his clothes, explaining the black peacoat he’d opted for instead of something more comfortable. Kuroo allows his gaze to trail down Akaashi’s morning adventure outfit before he spots that little rectangle peeking out from his pocket.

Early morning drive his ass, Akaashi was definitely planning on going somewhere beyond their tiny neighborhood gas station, and it took Kuroo less than a second to finally piece together the puzzle.

The hair, the clothes, the cellphone, the hands, the general aura of anxiety that far exceeded Akaashi’s usual levels.

_“Holy shit, Keiji.”_

The words tumble instinctively from his mouth, and he can’t help the smile that forces its way onto his face. Kuroo’s nerves are suddenly flooded with the same giddy excitement he felt when he first saw the red string tied to his own pinky so many years ago. Akaashi’s expression morphs into one of mild discomfort, and surely he must know that Kuroo knows, which is why he steps closer to Kuroo and shakes his head.

“Please don’t make this any bigger of a deal than it has to be.”

“I mean,” Kuroo begins, shaking his head, voice laced with mirth, “I would generally say that something like this is pretty high up on the list of things that one might consider a big deal.” Akaashi softly groans before Kuroo asks, “How long have you been able to see it?”

Although it isn’t visible to Kuroo himself, he can see the way that the fingers on Akaashi’s right hand seem to unconsciously twirl in the air, tugging on _something_.

“If I had to guess, a little under an hour.” Akaashi sighs, glancing at the invisible thread. “I didn’t see it until I took a break from editing sometime after three.”

Kuroo gasps in mock offense, bringing an over-dramatic hand to his chest. “And you didn’t even think to wake me up when it happened?”

“Because you fell asleep drunk.”

“Mildly tipsy,” he corrects. “Also, that was hours ago and now, I’m as sober as a nun while you’re wasting time talking to me.”

“Talking to you is never a waste of time, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi deadpans, eyes flitting between Kuroo and his car. “Although I genuinely doubt it would be a good idea to leave right now.”

“You have twenty-three hours left, which, realistically, should be more than enough time to get you guys introduced by afternoon, and madly in love by evening.”

“You said it yourself, it’s four in the morning on a Sunday.”

“Which is perfect because the earlier it is, the less people out on the road. I really don’t think that you could’ve asked the universe for a better time.” When Kuroo sees the furrow of Akaashi’s eyebrows he adds, “If your soulmate’s still asleep, we can just park down the street or something and wait. Maybe even buy them breakfast.”

“I really don’t think —”

“Keiji,” he interrupts, voice stern. “This is your once in a lifetime shot. You can’t honestly look at me and tell me that you don’t think you deserve at least this. I know you’re nervous, but there’s someone out there who — in about four hours — is going to wake up looking for you.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence and Kuroo wonders for a moment if perhaps he’s overstepped. Then he sees the look in Akaashi’s eyes and he’s reminded that Akaashi has never really shied away from brutal honesty, even if he doesn’t always like to hear it.

“I don’t think we’re going to find them here.”

Kuroo’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at Akaashi’s comment. “Whaddya mean?”

“I remember you telling me that right after you saw your thread, you felt like you were being tugged towards your soulmate. As if the string was nearly taught by the time it appeared, and all you had to do was follow the feeling.”

“The fact that your string isn’t literally pulling you out of your bedroom window doesn’t necessarily mean that your soulmate is three hundred miles away.”

“Just,” Akaashi begins, squinting towards the direction of the empty road, “trust me on this. I think it might take some time.”

“Which is all the more reason to get going!” Kuroo laughs and throws an easy arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, tugging him towards the direction of his car. “C’mon, I’ll even be there with you for emotional and moral support.”

The lights inside the car slowly flicker to life when the door is opened. Akaashi moves to take his seat behind the wheel until Kuroo — still attached to his shoulder — stops him. 

“Wait, let me drive. You haven’t slept all night, right?”

“With all due respect,” Akaashi says, extracting himself from Kuroo’s grasp, “I’d feel more comfortable if you got more than three hours of sleep before I trust you with our lives on the road.”

“Last I checked, three is bigger than zero.”

“And last _I_ checked, I still have an ungodly amount of caffeine in my body from this morning despite waking up at noon. If you’re feeling alright after a few hours and we haven’t made any progress, you’re more than welcome to the wheel, but please get some rest for now.”

Kuroo mumbles something along the lines of _can’t really argue with that_ and settles into the passenger seat, stealing a glance at Akaashi through the rear-view mirror. The dashboard lights highlight the dark circles under his eyes and for a moment, Kuroo feels guilty. He doesn’t really know why; it’s not like he could’ve predicted this would happen before going to bed late. But when he looks at the tiny sparkle of excitement behind those tired eyes, the soft spot in his heart pokes at him as a gentle reminder that he would probably do anything to facilitate his friend’s happiness.

Akaashi must catch him staring when he meets his gaze in the mirror and says, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“Isn’t that the truth, ”Akaashi mutters as a statement rather than a question. He glances back and puts the car in reverse. “You know I really don’t want to ruin your plans for this evening with Kenma.”

“There’ll be other volleyball games.”

“As important as this one?”

“That’s what DVRs and big TVs are for. It’s not like we were going to see it in person or anything.”

The car comes to a halt underneath a streetlamp, right at the turn that would take them onto the main road. Akaashi’s eyes are caught jumping between his fingers and the empty expanse of road in front of him, no doubt a physical reflection of what must be racing through his head. He’s left the turn signal on, and its constant beep begins to grate on Kuroo’s ears.

“If you’re not gonna keep your eyes on the road, I humbly request you trade me for shotgun,” Kuroo says, glancing at Akaashi. The look in his eyes isn’t exactly _far-off_ per say, but it certainly isn’t entirely there. Kuroo doesn’t want to forcibly unpack everything that Akaashi almost certainly overthinking, so instead he says, “Kenma’s not going to be upset if I’m late tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about. You know him; he wouldn’t want you to be alone for this unless you really wanted to be.”

For the first time that evening, Kuroo thinks he finally sees the ghost of a smile on Akaashi’s face.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. No more holdups for today.”

Kuroo hums in response, and in the rearview mirror, he sees Akaashi’s gaze sweep straight ahead as the car turns onto the main road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroaka friendship always makes my heart a little happy. 
> 
> My apologies for the delay in posting! Holidays and finals week always makes for a slightly hectic November/December. I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/HypoxicDreams) if you ever want to talk about bokuaka soulmates.


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